


Each Other's Company

by spacetrashcity



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Smut, Taxi, first fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 20:07:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1239214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacetrashcity/pseuds/spacetrashcity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: After a nearly disastrous case, Sherlock and John share a tense taxi ride Baker Street. With emotions running high, they finally arrive back at 221B, and for redeement, Sherlock knows just what to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Each Other's Company

Title: Each Others Company

Author: Chloe Chan (timelesslyyoung)

Summary: After a nearly disastrous case, Sherlock and John share a tense taxi ride Baker Street. With emotions running high, they finally arrive back at 221B, and for redeement, Sherlock knows just what to do.

Rating: (PG-13)

Length: 1104 words (1 chapter)

Warning: none

Author notes: Plotless Johnlock smut

 

The case was long and harsh, much like the winter season that showed no sign of relieving them from the constant snowing, only letting up for a glimmer of broken hope. Though now they were safe in the confinement of their taxi, hours before, they were trapped in an never-ending run, sprinting away from Jim Moriarty, which proved unusually difficult as they also had to dodge the bullets from the hidden assassins who were absorbed in their competition to get to the pair first. Though the cab they took was heated at a pleasant temperature, the atmosphere was anything but.

 

The first few minutes were little more than the couple trying to catch their breath, letting the adrenaline they earned disappear. Then they thought of the events that occurred not to long ago, leaving their thoughts churning. A silence, very unlike the one before, fell, making them very uncomfortable. John Watson adjusted his jumper as the infamous Sherlock Holmes looked at his hands, his curly, wet hair falling slightly.

 

"John..."

 

"Shut up, Sherlock," they quieted for a few seconds.

 

"John, I'm sorry."

 

"I said shut up." Another pause.

 

"I was just trying to help." 

 

"You know," John turned to face him for the first time in the thirty tense minutes they were stuck in the cab. Fucking traffic. "For such a knowledgeable prick, you really don't get the concept of shutting up do you?"

 

"It's just that you were captured and I thought-"

 

"You thought what?" I needed you to fucking charge at five men with guns and knives, unarmed? Five men, Sherlock. I'm not a fucking damsel in distress. You forget, I fought in the war." Sherlock thought to himself for a few seconds, debating on whether it was a wise decision to say what he did next. 

 

"You were a doctor, John."

 

"I had my days, Holmes!" Sherlock twitched at the sound of his last name off Johns tongue, as he wasn't used to it being said so sharply and so bitterly, at least, from his friend.

 

At last, the taxi pulled up at the door of 221b , the stairs leading to the door, almost piled with a foot tall cover of snow. John swore silently, looking at his worn sneakers. The day he was captured was a delightfully warm day, so he decided that sneakers would be sufficient to walk in. Not to mention, his snow boots were broken at the sole and practically no use in protecting his feet from the elements and he didn't have the time, money nor will to buy a new pair. Sherlock, with his sharp blue eyes, noticed that John's shoes were not proper for walking in the snow and that he was very reluctant to do so.

 

Concluding that it'd be a great way to redeem himself, he quickly paid the cabbie, and stepped out first. John followed suite but soon found himself scooped in the surprisingly firm arms of his companion.

 

"Sherlock- what are you-"

 

"Shut up John" Taken back, John did so. Giving a small smirk for his tiny victory, he thought to himself (as he always did) "John Watson is nothing more than putty in my hands"

 

Somehow, the consulting detective managed to open the lock, his arms just stuttering for a second. Expecting to be dropped at the front mat, Sherlock surprised him once again and did no such thing. In his rather comfortable bridal-styled position in Sherlock arms, he found himself rather enjoying the clear view and feel of his muscular chest through the thin purple shirt under jacket. At a very early stage in all these happenings, John had already figured to unbutton at least a few buttons, for both his and Sherlock's comfort.

 

He was taken up the carpeted stairs and soon, into his room. Sherlock placed John softly on his bed, already leaning over his partner. His dark curls ticked the war doctor's nose, as they were so close.

 

"Of course you are not a damsel in distress, but you get caught so often that often, I wonder if you are doing more with them than you do with me."

 

"I would never." John breathed. Sherlock's plum lips pressed against Johns thin ones. Sherlock always blamed the shape of his protruding lips on his (forced) trumpet lessons fixed upon him as a young boy. Picturing the present-day Sherlock blowing into the brass instrument was not only made him laugh a bit but also got him all quite bothered, thinking of what the man could do with is lips, so practiced in blowing into the trumpet till it made a pleasurable noise. Pressing against him gently with the palm of his hand, Sherlock made John give a small whimper and made him shiver.

 

"Sherlock?"

 

"Yes John?"

 

"Hurry the fuck up, already."

 

"Patience" Sherlock chuckled as he grinded the man under him more. John, as the impatient man he is had decided to take matters in his own hands.. The buttons of Sherlock's jacket and tight purple shirt were popped out of their spaces, leaving his chest exposed and free to roam by Johns hands. Deciding it was unfair to himself to not get the similar pleasures as John did, the curious detective pulled Johns jumper over his blonde hair. Leaning forward, John release himself from the burden of Sherlock's soft lips and replaced it with the job of sucking his harden nipples.

 

Gently, he nipped them both, giving them equal affection, one with his tongue and teeth, the other with his playful fingers. Not sure what else to do with John pushing up against him and Sherlock with his tired hips so he adjusted himself till he was straddling him, with John following suite, sitting up and moaning as his Sherlock ran his finger through his companions short, dirty-blonde hair. John had quickly made a flip so Sherlock was lying down on his back this time and without hesitation or consent, he quickly began taking off the belt, trousers and soon, the pants of Sherlock Holmes. The blogger took a long look at the sight before him, taking in every detail: his sharp hips, rather muscular abs and large, bulging cock. John licked his lips preparing to swoop down but Sherlock demanded that first, John was too stripped. He smirked as he did so. Now they were stripped-bare, they could now truly enjoy each others company.


End file.
